Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Andrew W. Marlowe, though they have found their own way into my heart.

So here's a penny for your thoughts,

a nickel for a kiss,

a dime if you tell me that you love me.

-Tavares, 1982-

1. POCKET CHANGE

It's dark, just a desk lamp softly shinning over the table top. It's quiet too. He observes her. She's biting on her thumb nail, worrying her bottom lip as she studies the scribbles and notes on the sheets of paper in her hands. There's a deep line between her brows as she concentrates, tries to read the white spaces between the lines, tries to figure out the invisible message hidden behind the blank gaps, tries to listen to the silent whispers that try to speak to her.

"A penny for your thoughts," he murmurs, breaking the silence.

She takes a deep breath before answering, almost as if talking to herself, with her gaze still glued to the file. "I was just thinking that…" She seems to get lost in thought again, but then she blinks a few times and her eyes leave the paper in her hand; she lifts her head and meets his gaze. "I was thinking that maybe we are focusing on the wrong victim. What if…? Uh... I don't know…," she exhales, rubbing a hand across her face.

A beat of silence falls upon them again.

"A nickel for a kiss," he says.

She closes the folder and drops it on her desk. "Really," she drags the word out, arching her brows, slumping back in the chair, folding her arms over her chest, and a small smile curving one corner of her mouth.

He digs into his pocket, pulls out some worn coins, checks the change in his hand and slides a nickel across the table with his forefinger. She eyes it and then looks back up at him, studying the intentions playing on his face.

She loves to tease him so she decides she wants to make him believe she won't fall for his little game. She doesn't divert her eyes from his face when her hand moves slowly forward, as if reaching for the case folder on her desk. His eyes follow her hand and she sees the disappointment starting to dawn on his features. She stops, her fingers lingering for a few seconds over the documents, and then, suddenly, she changes direction, her palm landing on the coin. His blue eyes, full of hope now, lock with hers. She leans forward over the desk and stops an inch from his mouth. He remains still as well. She moves even closer, their breaths brushing the other's lips, feeling the warmth irradiating from their skin.

"Do you want the kiss?" she whispers.

"Do you want the nickel?" he replies with a tone softer than a murmur.

It suddenly seems to become a contest for restraint, a quest for power. Who will resist the longest? Neither wants to give up, but neither can resist this longing; its force pulls them over the edge and they both cross the line together, closing the nonexistent distance keeping them apart.

The kiss is slow and fast, teasing and heated, lazy and passionate. All in all, it's amazing. But after a long minute they finally have to break apart, desperate for the much needed pull of air.

"That was worth… a lot more than a nickel," she murmurs breathless, between shallow pants.

He opens his hand, fishes a dime from his palm and places it between them. Her expression turns somber; her face turns into a blank unreadable mask. She can't take her eyes off that little gray round copper piece. Her heartbeat picks up again, thrumming erratically inside her chest.

"A dime if…" he trails off, feeling suddenly hesitant. He's scared he has messed it up. She's not moving, she's barely even breathing. She is completely frozen, totally enthralled by that little object lying between them.

It started as an innocent game but now it has turned to another direction, it has taken the opposite road, and it's all wrong. He wishes he could erase the last 30 seconds because it feels like he's pressing her, forcing her into saying what he's been desperate to hear, even though he already knows how she feels about him, even if she hasn't told him yet, and this is not what he wanted, and—

"I love you," she says suddenly.

There is no hint of hesitation in her voice, no quavering, no trembling. It's straightforward and steady. And… it feels good to say it, it feels right, and it's… Her gaze shoots up to his shocked face; his jaw is slack, his mouth slightly open in complete surprise, in utter disbelief.

"I love you," she voices again, this time to his face, and she can't stop the smile from spreading across her lips.

Hope you liked it :)